Last month I wrote about delight—specifically, my inability to access it, at least the way I once did. How impossible it felt to notice the little blessings of an ordinary day.
Then a funny thing happened. Mere minutes after writing that post, I started seeing those little blessings. So I opened a fresh list of delights. I kept it going.
I got sick, and partially recovered, and then got sick again, and stayed sick. Still the delights have not ceased.
It’s no great mystery, really: in writing that post, I gave myself permission to grieve. I let the dam crumble, let the flood of sorrow and anger wash through me, and in so doing loosened the talons of despair. Not entirely. Just a little bit. Enough.
I am still sick, still angry, still grieving, still watching the losses accumulate. But the blessings are still piling up, too.
Here’s a few of them.
Recent Delights
Rain-dotted cherry blossoms in the COVID testing site parking lot
The pickup truck at the red light with five—five—large dogs happily hanging out the windows
The turtle with the monocle drawn in sharpie on the stop sign
The miniature bamboo spoon I use to measure out grains of sea salt
The toddler loudly shopping for the perfect pinecone to give her baby sister
A pair of super-soft, cheerful socks sent by a friend
My neighbor standing on the lawn with her elderly dogs, quietly singing to them and herself
My partner laughing suddenly and uproariously in his sleep, as though someone in his dreams had just told a really good joke
Successfully supergluing a cherished coffee mug that seemed beyond repair
A spooky, beautiful letter from an artist friend
In the tree beside my window, a bird so yellow that I had to stop what I was doing
Sunlight glinting on glossy green pine needles
The single hexagon of silver glitter stuck to my phone—a tiny, mysterious mirror. (I’ve been sick in bed with few interruptions for weeks. Where did it come from?)
Scraggly bushes bursting with shimmering, delicately scented pink beach roses
A foghorn in the night, just after I’d closed my eyes
this post is one of my delights — does that make it a meta-delight?
Jane: I think so, and that delights me, too.
Whenever I see “still sick” and “Covid” in the same context, I think of Long Covid, which I & my daughter have now suffered with for over 2 years. If this is the “still sick” you’re referring to, I highly recommend the “Body Politic” long covid support group. You might also encounter a few other science writers there, btw.
Get better soon!
Dr D: I’m so sorry to hear it. Thank you, and I’m sending hope for a recovery for you and your daughter, too.
I fully agree with Jane’s comment. Thanks for the reminder 🙂 Actually, we should make this a daily meditation. I hope you feel a bit better soon Kate!
Thanks, Conny! Hope you’ve been feeling all right, too. <3
As muscle memory unearths the hand-shapes of chords of a long-ago song only upon touching the instrument, emerging archaeologically from the depths with the familiar unthought of a shoelace’s knot, there is a picture frame, here, which arrives in attention, as attention, at the sound of each “train passing.” And because, unlike shoe-lacing and involuntarily remembered chords, it appears only on special occasions – such as the incendiary moment of light-wound trees igniting simultaneously in a parking lot just then, just now – because it was installed, and is invoked, to only witness miracles, this frame invites no dust. I found sickness shaking in its boots when it heard that remedy is your poem, is the legacy you inspire.